


Be So Converted

by TKelParis



Category: Much Ado About Nothing (2011), Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKelParis/pseuds/TKelParis
Summary: What would happen between Benedick and Beatrice if Don Pedro hadn't decided to play Cupid for them? Would they still find each other?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An extra idea that popped up while I was finishing Seals of Love. Beta read by [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/).

**Title** : Be So Converted  
  
 **Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
  
 **Rating** : T  
  
 **Author** : tkel_paris  
  
 **Summary** : What would happen between Benedick and Beatrice if Don Pedro hadn't decided to play Cupid for them? Would they still find each other?  
  
 **Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned.  
  
 **Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). This was supposed to be your Christmas present. So sorry for the delay.  
  
 **Author's Note** : An extra idea that popped up while I was finishing Seals of Love. Beta read by [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/).  
  
  


**Be So Converted**  
  
 **Started February 26, 2014**  
 **Finished May 7, 2015**  
  
“Come, Lady; die to live. This wedding day is perhaps prolong'd; have patience and endure.”  
  
Benedick watched as the Friar and Innogen led Hero out of the church. Leonato had already left in grief over the weight of the accusations against Hero, the anger he had let loose against his own child, and the pain of having to pretend she had died upon being falsely accused.  
  
And slowly but surely the guilt of taking the Prince, the Count, and Don John at their word – or so Benedick hoped.  
  
He followed just a little as Beatrice followed her cousin slowly. He felt a need to speak with the wit combatant he had spoken ill of before. She looked as though she needed a friend.  
  
“Lady Beatrice,” he called quietly, certain that the others would not hear.  
  
She stopped, turning to face him warily.  
  
He was instantly stricken by the heaviness of her grief. “Have you wept all this while?”  
  
“Yea,” she answered, barely able to raise her voice to speaking level. “And I will weep a while longer.”  
  
The sight of her tear-streaked face tugged at him, making his chest constrict. “I will not desire that.”  
  
“You have no reason; I do it freely.”  
  
“Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.”  
  
His words lightened her soul greatly. “Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her.”  
  
He felt a twinge. Would she submit herself to someone if they restored Hero's honour and reputation?! Hiding a swallow at the thought, he instead asked, “Is there any way to show such friendship?”  
  
“A very even way, but no such friend.”  
  
“May a man do it?”  
  
“It is a man's office, but not yours.”  
  
As she wept anew, he thought about what he could do. What sort of way could she mean? He only knew he did not like seeing her so grieved and longed to remove her tears. He was not yet sure where this need came from, other than a belief that ladies required more respectful treatment than many a man was willing to even think of giving. Respect he learned from feeling the injustice of his own father and brothers' actions.  
  
He stepped closer, slowly to not frighten her. “How may I be of service to thee, Lady Beatrice? It grieves me to see thee so burdened.”  
  
“What concern of yours is it, Senor? I am sorry for my cousin, and thou hath no right to act on her behalf. Only a man who wished to be bound to me, or perhaps to have me bound to him, would have such a right; and as thou have noted my mind is not of a sort to draw in such a man.”  
  
Those words felt worse than a sword wound. They hit something far deeper, and he could not hide that hurt. “Are there no men who could act in the place of a brother, an uncle, a cousin? Kin or kith who may act?”  
  
“None!” She sobbed and choked out, “The only way I see for my cousin to be right'd is for a man to act on her and my behalf and kill Claudio!”  
  
Her words left a deep silence over them for a long moment. At length Benedick found his voice, and it was numb with the shock in the face of her belief. 'Is Claudio thy enemy?”  
  
Her anger recovered. “Is he not approv'd in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonour'd my kinswoman? O that I were a man!”  
  
Benedick was still, his insides freezing at the stark portrayal of the man he called friend – for all his faults. He was therefore startled when Beatrice grabbed his hands to make her point as she forced out her explanation of her anger.  
  
“What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, unmitigated rancour – O god, that I were a man!” Her scream as she abruptly released his hands made him recoil slightly, but she was too angry to pay attention. “I would eat his heart in the marketplace!”  
  
He tried to calm her. “Beatrice-”  
  
“Talk with a man in the open air? A proper saying!”  
  
“Beatrice-”  
  
“Sweet Hero! She is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone!”  
  
“Bea-”  
  
She gave him no chance to try again. And her flailing hands silenced him as much as her words.  
  
“Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend who would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie... and swears it.”  
  
Benedick was completely still. Here was his sex's most grievous faults laid bare, and laid firmly at the door of two men he had considered to have the very bent of honor. There was no way he could defend either of them.  
  
Beatrice barely noticed his stricken stance. “I cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with grieving.” She moved to leave.  
  
He stepped in the way, suddenly desperate for her to remain. “Tarry, good Beatrice! You are not without friends!”  
  
She slapped his hands away. “You dare be friends with me than fight with mine enemy?”  
  
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think once about them. “I wish to be more than friends for I do love nothing in the world so well as you!”  
  
She gasped, mouth hanging open.  
  
He froze a moment, but the weight of the moment forced him to speak after a pause. “Is not that strange?”  
  
She took several breaths to find enough focus to answer him. “As strange as the thing I know not.” She needed another as her heart was trying to leap into her throat. Clearing it seemed to help long enough to speak. “It were as possible to say I love nothing so well as you.” She covered her mouth and stumbled back as she realized what she said.  
  
His heart lifted and he followed.  
  
“But believe me not! And yet I lie not. I confess nothing! Nor I deny nothing!” She quickly moved chairs between them, stopping him in his tracks. “How can thou who is bound to the Prince's service be a man for my sake?”  
  
He took a deep breath and covered her hands gently where they gripped one chair, showing he was not moving in threat to her but in support. “Think in your soul that Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?”  
  
“Yea,” she choked. “As sure as I have a thought or a soul.”  
  
“What proof have you?” he asked.  
  
“All proof unheard since I am woman and not man,” she wept bitterly.  
  
“Tell me, sweet Beatrice, and I will tell to every man as mine own truth.”  
  
She did not hesitate to trust him. “I know it as false. My aunt brought her home and Hero was in my bed, where we have shared sleep every night. Yea, since my father died and left me orphaned and without a man to call upon. If she had risen hence I would have known!”  
  
He released her hands to touch her arms. “Enough. I am engaged, I will challenge him.”  
  
She stared at him in shock.  
  
He reached for the hand still resting on the chair. “I shall kiss your hand and so seal my promise.” He did, lingering over her hand. “By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account.”  
  
She struggled to speak. “Will this not place you in an impossible state with the Prince?”  
  
It would, if he had not determined already his whole course of action. “Then I shall have to quit his company, an act which I pray shall give him pause over his own actions. My lot I cast with yours and shall look not with second thoughts. Once I hath secured the restoration of your fair cousin's name shall I dedicate myself to thy service, my dearest Lady, as thou hast had possession of my heart when I did not know it.”  
  
Beatrice make choking sounds for a long moment, stumbling away toward a pillar and then finally breathed, “Why then, o may God forgive me!”  
  
“What offense, sweet Beatrice?”  
  
“You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest that I love you.”  
  
Even with the weight of the moment, Benedick smiled as he approached to touch her arms. “Then do it with all thy heart!”  
  
“I love you with so much of my heart that there is none left to protest.” She gasped, pulling away into the open so she could lean against a pillar.  
  
He wanted to ask her to bid him to anything for her, but he thought better of it. It was time for them to go to their different goals, but he looked at the pain warring with the joy in her face and could not quite leave her. “Let me escort thee to thy uncle's. Go comfort your cousin once there. I must say she is dead.” He put his hat back on, and offered his arm. “May I have the honour?”  
  
She slowly picked up the bouquet before accepting his arm, leaning into him as they walked until she recovered herself enough that she could manage the rest of the way. That was her intention, however. But she found herself uneasy enough that her gait would not steady.  
  
Benedick pretended to not notice. “I must write a letter to the Prince, informing him of my resolution. He shall pause at the knowledge that his actions have cost him my service.”  
  
Suddenly she did not yet want him to leave her side. “There is paper at my uncle's; thou may use it as mine uncle will be grateful to thee.” Then she paused as she looked pensive.  
  
He frowned. “What concern troubles thee now, my lady?”  
  
“When you have right'd Hero, when will you come with me to approach my uncle?”  
  
Benedick stood taller as the request painted a stronger and clearer picture of his lady, one that made him feel even more unworthy of her. More ashamed of his actions in the years since they met; and yet determined to stand for her sake. “I see it matters a great deal to thee to be part of every decision that alters thy life; to rule over the lands that are thine by blood and right, no matter what custom and the law state. I understand thy desires and vow this: upon our marriage I shall defer to thy knowledge of thy family's lands and traditions, enforcing thy choices if any dare deny thy right. And we may go to thy uncle whenever it pleases thee.”  
  
Beatrice found a tender smile. “Thou art truly the properest man in all of Italy, perhaps even the world.”  
  
He felt secure enough to draw her a little closer and smile warmly. “At this moment I would fight anything on thy behalf, sweet Beatrice.”  
  
Their steps became even closer to each other, enough to declare to any observer that they were together without shoving it in their faces.  
  
/=/=/=/  
  
Footsteps interrupted Benedick as he sealed his work. He looked up and his eyebrows raised. “Beatrice, why art thou here and not with thy cousin?”  
  
“Hero wishes to be alone with her gentlewoman. No words of comfort could I offer that she would accept; her heart is too frail to hear that there is one who will defend her, for it would mean that the man she still loves in spite of his failing her may die on the sword.”  
  
Beatrice's voice betrayed the anger she had bestowed a showing of to Benedick earlier, but it lacked the depth of venom that she had let loose before. Her own tears had left her a bit spent.  
  
Benedick tucked his now finished letter in his coat's inside pocket as he stood. He took her hands tenderly. “I thank you, my lady; thou hast made my unpleasant task easier. I must now say that Hero is dead and make Claudio and the Prince aware that they have acted wrongly.”  
  
Beatrice nodded. “Let me walk with thee to the courtyard.”  
  
Arm in arm they walked. Their conversation was soft, a discussion of what their plans would be for the future. The few servants who saw were stunned and left motionless from their disbelief that the governor's niece and the Prince's longest-serving lieutenant could be so at peace with each other.  
  
Only they halted when they came upon Leonato and Innogen. The former was seated and venting his spleen to his long-suffering wife who suppressed her own grief to deal with his. The words coming from the man brought frowns to both lovers. They kept their displeasure silent, not wishing to attract attention even as Innogen drew Leonato out of his grief and back into anger.  
  
Benedick did have to whisper to Beatrice, “I pray no one forces thy uncle to become aware of how much hypocrisy in his actions; a man ought not to trust others ahead of his own judgement of his child.”  
  
Beatrice nodded. “Such is why I hath rebelled where and when I could.”  
  
The slow entrance from the other side of the area of the Prince and Claudio, both clearly not expecting to find anyone around, silenced all talking. “Good day,” said the Prince, echoed by an equally stiff Claudio.  
  
Benedick and Beatrice held back as Leonato began to confront them, and was seconded by Innogen pointing out the obvious about being wronged, although her words were more poetic than Leonato was capable of. They remained in the background as Leonato shouted and scolded Claudio as he ought to have from the start. They remained where they were when the news that Hero had “died” was revealed, stunning both the Prince and Claudio despite not being enough. The lovers remained aside as Innogen proved that she was as big a force to be reckoned with as her husband, the inspiration for Beatrice to carry even further.  
  
But when the Prince insisted that Hero was accused justly Benedick decided it was time to step forward. “Good day, my lord.”  
  
Beatrice followed, keeping in step with him.  
  
Leonato's ready rant was stilled, partly by the interruption but more by the sight of his niece standing so closely to the Prince's lieutenant. “Senor Benedick. Niece.”  
  
The Prince nodded his own greeting, although it was subdued due to the gravity of the immediate situation. “Benedick, you have come to part almost a fray.”  
  
“In a false quarrel there is to true valour. I have come to seek you both.”  
  
Claudio would have tried a more light tone, but he felt it necessary to temper his tone. “We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten away. Will thou use thy wit when we are left alone?”  
  
“It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it?” Benedick retorted, not amused.  
  
“Store thy wit by thy side?” asked the Prince before anyone else could.  
  
“As I am an honest man, he looks pale,” noted Claudio, a little amusement creeping into his voice by habit of how he spoke to Benedick in the presence of the Prince. “Art thou sick or angry?”  
  
“Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you use it against me. I pray you choose another subject,” Benedick snapped.  
  
Claudio nearly laughed, but the look on Beatrice's face kept that firmly under wraps. “By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.”  
  
Benedick stopped anyone else from reacting by holding out his hand. “Shall I speak a word in your ear?”  
  
His tone was so deadly without being overpowering that they all stilled. Even Beatrice, who knew what he was doing.  
  
Leonato and Innogen's mouths dropped wide open. Their eyes grew even bigger when they noticed that Beatrice did not share in their shock.  
  
Claudio looked numbly at the Prince, who slowly gestured for him to follow Benedick, who only walked far enough away that lowered voices would be difficult to be overheard. Gentlemanly honor demanded it, no matter whether the other party had claim to any. Once over, Claudio tried to make a joke in a quiet tone. “God bless me from a challenge.”  
  
Benedick was not amused. “You are a villain.”  
  
Claudio squawked a laugh.  
  
“I jest not,” snapped Benedick. The resulting silence allowed him to begin his critical attack. “I will make you good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet and _innocent_ lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.”  
  
He stepped away, but Claudio did not let him go more than a step before pretending he could not be serious. “Well, I would meet you, so I may have good cheer.”  
  
“Sir, you wit ambles well; it goes easily,” Benedick retorted in a slow manner, letting every bit of scorn for the title show. He walked over toward Beatrice, which happened to place him near the Prince, whose movements to judge what was happening drew him closer. Now came the hardest part. To see what the Prince did and said.  
  
While he could not jest, Don Pedro could comment on something he remembered. “Lady Beatrice, despite when you transhaped Benedick's virtues for an hour the other day you did conclude that he was properest man in Italy, now you stand at his side. What has changed your opinion now?”  
  
She kept her tone measured, holding in her anger and grief. “That he hath proved there can be no man more proper in the world. Who else would go against his brothers in arms to defend a woman he knows is innocent? Even though he had not been attentive he was aware enough of her character to know that none who properly observe Hero would dare accuse her.”  
  
The words were delivered calmly, but the underlying deadliness was pointed and unmistakable. Her manner was just polite enough to avoid being accused of being unladylike. But it still earned uneasy looks from her guardian and aunt.  
  
Don Pedro thought a long moment about how to reply. Then he focused on the one thing he could. “Benedick, I must state that I feel Hero was justly accused, and the accusation was full of proof.”  
  
“In that I must disagree with you, my lord. Prince, I thank thee for thy many favours.” He drew an envelope out of his pocket. “I must discontinue your company.”  
  
Only Beatrice did not still from the announcement.  
  
Don Pedro looked carefully into Benedick's eyes, and saw a sad yet determined resolution. “Thou art in earnest.”  
  
“Most profound earnest,” breathed Claudio. “And I would almost warrant for the love of Beatrice.”  
  
“I do not deny that, for it is true,” proclaimed Benedick, shocking none more than Leonato. But he did not tarry. Instead he turned to the Prince. “Yet it is immaterial to the matter at hand. Your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you killed an innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet.” He let the words sink in for a moment. “Until we do, peace be with him. Senor Leonato, your niece and I wish for a moment of thy time, aside from these men.”  
  
Again, more silence from the elders, but before the Governor could give an answer they were interrupted as the Sexton marched into the room, business in his entire manner. “Governor, I hold here the examinations ta'en this morning; thy awareness is required as an accused hath stolen away.”  
  
Leonato received and read the papers, not trying to stop Innogen from reading over his shoulder. Within moments they each turned stone cold in his expression within moments.  
  
“Where art the villains?!” he bellowed.  
  
“They follow, in the care of the Watch.”  
  
Benedick closed his eyes tightly for a moment, unimpressed. He remembered the Watch officers he saw walking about yesternight, and he was worried that their efforts would not have produced a result that would permit actual justice to happen.  
  
“Come hither, sirs, you must be looked to!” cried a voice familiar to Beatrice and her family. Even she closed her eyes at the sound of Dogberry's voice, as much as she tried to have patience with him.  
  
The Prince was stunned. “Two of my brother's men bound?! Officer, what offence have these men committed?”  
  
The Messanger was not permitted a chance to speak much, for Dogberry insisted on showing off what he thought was his wit in discharging his duty as the constable. “ Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady, thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.”  
  
Not even the angry Leonato was surprised at the Prince's rapidly shifting expressions. They all waited until Don Pedro had recovered himself.  
  
“First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.”  
  
A moment of the two in a battle of wills passed until the Prince's already short patience was pushed to the breaking point before Dogberry backed off.  
  
“Masters, this learned constable is too... cunning to be understood. What's your offence?”  
  
Borachio managed to speak, even with the weight of Benedick's stare bearing down on him. He knew that man had to have guessed some part of the events already. “Sweet Prince, do you hear me and let this Count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover these... shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how your brother Don John incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, and how you saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments.”  
  
Benedick had to turn away in disgust. Not just at Don John and Borachio for thinking of and carrying out the plan to begin with, but also at the Prince and Claudio for falling so easily for it. His only comfort would be that their honors would make the guilt weigh heavy on them, and he only hoped that Claudio would recognize his own guilt in the matter without trying to fall back on any male excuses.  
  
He had seen plenty of them back home. He knew all of the tricks, and did not trust that he had not taken advantage of a few to escape attentions he had not wanted. Thank goodness he would never have to worry about that once he married Beatrice. He might never again see a battlefield, but there was reason to live now, reason to cherish life beyond what he had had before.  
  
And what a life it might be.  
  
Borachio broke the silence left by his words. “My villainy they have upon record which I had rather seal with my death than repeat to my shame. The lady is dead on my and my master's false words; and briefly, I desire nothing more than the reward of a villain.”  
  
The Prince rubbed his eyes hard, as if to scrub at his own guilt. But the way he let his hands hang by his side said that it did very little. Claudio's numb stance, rigid from the shock and horror of his actions, proved the man's own guilt.  
  
“Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?” Don Pedro asked Claudio, tightly as he was struggling to contain his feelings.  
  
“I have drunk poison whilst he uttered it,” muttered the Count, aloud.  
  
“But did my brother set thee upon this?”  
  
“Yea, and paid me richly for the effort,” Borachio admitted.  
  
“He is composed and frame of treachery: and fled he is upon this villainy!” exploded the Prince. Oh, how would he explain this to his father, the King?!  
  
Claudio sank into a chair on the paving to one side. “Sweet Hero! Now thy image doth appear in the rare semblance that I loved it first!”  
  
Beatrice turned to Benedick and joined him, ignoring the words of Dogberry. “Senor, my cousin is righted by this, is she not?” she whispered.  
  
He kept his answer equally quiet. “I fear the deception must be carried out further. How to revive her now is a challenge.”  
  
“No, villain, thou beliest thyself,” they heard Leonato say.  
  
Turning, they both realized that he was speaking to Borachio. But only for a moment. His attention turned to Hero's accusers.  
  
“Here stand a pair of honourable men who had a hand in it. I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death. It was bravely done if you would but think of it.” He added a salute to mock them.  
  
Claudio stood. “I know not how to pray your patience; yet I must speak.”  
  
The courtyard went silent while Claudio struggled for the words to express himself.  
  
“Choose your revenge yourself; impose me to what penance your invention can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not but in mistaking.”  
  
“Error hath no excuse for a gentleman of honour,” snapped Benedick, taking a few warning steps toward Claudio, who reflexively drew back from the mere look in his eyes, the chair falling back from beneath him with a clatter. He glanced at it, but retained his feet after a fashion. And Benedick was not finished with him. “The fault lies either in thy wisdom or in thy impatience and willingness to believe other men over a lady, one who you had been prepared to make half yourself. Why would any man be prepared to do so if he hath not ta'en the time to be certain he hath chosen wisely; not merely for the alleged more vital matters of family and money?!”  
  
The cutting words were sufficient. Claudio hung his head.  
  
Don Pedro thus changed the words of apology he had on his tongue. “Then I am equally guilty of such a failing in my wisdom, trusting the words of a brother I knew hath every ability to conceal the truth; but upon my honour, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any weight that he'll enjoin me to,” he declared, speaking to Leonato.  
  
The Governor thought quickly, a plan beginning to form to revive his daughter in the public eye. “I cannot bid you my daughter live; that were impossible: but, I pray you both, possess the people in Messina here how innocent she died; and if your love can labour in sad invention, hang her an epitaph upon her tomb and sing it to her bones, sin it to-night.” He went to his wife's side and took her hands. “Tomorrow morning come you to my house, and since you could not be my son-in-law, be yet my nephew: my wife hath a niece, almost the copy of our child that's dead. Give her the right you should have given her cousin, and so dies my revenge.”  
  
Benedick and Beatrice each had to fight the urge to widen their eyes. It was an insane plan, so easy to see through; and yet what other choice there was to bring Hero back neither could see. All they hoped was that Claudio was willing. Even though Beatrice plainly wished for an alternative.  
  
“Oh noble sir, your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! I do embrace your offer; and dispose henceforth of poor Claudio,” cried the Count, offering his hand.  
  
Leonato did not take it, as was his right. Instead he merely acknowledged it and confronted Borachio, who pled that Margaret was innocent, and then endured dealing with Dogberry until that man left with the Watch and his faithful assistant. At last he could address the deceived men who wronged his daughter. “Farewell, my lords: we look for you tomorrow.”  
  
“We will not fail,” swore the Prince.  
  
“Tonight I'll mourn with Hero,” promised Claudio.  
  
“Bring you these fellow son,” Leonato commanded the Messanger and the Sexton. “We'll talk with Margaret, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.” He turned to his niece and Benedick. “Come with us, and whilst we wait for Margaret to come to account for her own actions in this, no matter how innocent, we shall speak of the words you spoke, Senor; and Niece, you shall be present as thy both appear to wish.”  
  
Benedick offered his arm, and Beatrice accepted it as they followed the others out. Leaving Don Pedro and Claudio to stew in their guilt.  
  
  
[ **Part Two**](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/119457.html)


	2. Be So Converted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would happen between Benedick and Beatrice if Don Pedro hadn't decided to play Cupid for them? Would they still find each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra idea that popped up while I was finishing Seals of Love.

**Title** : Be So Converted

**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing

**Rating** : T

**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)

**Summary** : What would happen between Benedick and Beatrice if Don Pedro hadn't decided to play Cupid for them? Would they still find each other?

**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned.

**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). This was supposed to be your Christmas present. So sorry for the delay.  
 **Author's Note** : An extra idea that popped up while I was finishing Seals of Love.

Beta read by [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/).

 

[Part One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/118861.html)

 

**Be So Converted**

**Started February 26, 2014**   
**Finished May 7, 2015**

With Borachio and Conrade under careful guard, Leonato and Innogen felt at leisure to draw their niece and the Senor who had prevented Leonato from hurting Hero at the church aside for some speech. Although they could not go far, as they expected Margaret to be found quickly.

“Senor, I pray thee enlighten us on why thou defended my daughter in my niece's name,” Leonato demanded.

Beatrice had not let go of Benedick's arm, and spoke first despite not being addressed. “The truth, Uncle, is that I look upon the senor with the highest eye of favour.”

Innogen smiled. “I told thee that our niece would not seek so many skirmishes of wit with Benedick if she did not wish for his company,” she proclaimed to her husband.

Leonato nodded. “And thy wisdom proves superior to mine in this, Wife.”

Benedick spoke when he saw an opening. “And I must confess that I quite requite it.” The words felt strange to say, making him nearly stumble over them. He had never had trouble speaking his mind before, but this time the stakes seemed so much greater than even the life or death situations in the heat of battle.

“Which would explain thy always seeking her out; but what's your will?”

Benedick wondered if Leonato was being deliberately obtuse or genuinely acting the part of a guardian who needed to check on his charge's potential future. “Your will is enigmatical, but we desire thy goodwill as to consent for myself and Beatrice...” he paused long enough to adjust their hands so they were clasping “to be joined in the state of honourable marriage, for which we require thy help.”

Despite everything both Leonato and Innogen found large smiles; her hands clapped together in delight while Leonato shook Benedick's hand heartily. “My wife's heart and mine are with thy liking; and in gratitude for thy actions in my daughter's defence thou may be wedded to my niece on the morrow.”

Were it not for the severity of the situation still hanging over all their heads Beatrice would have squealed for joy and Benedick laughed. But the worries for Hero, no matter how innocent she had been proven, dampened their show of emotion.

The sounds of people approaching alerted them that the interview was over. “Senor, thee may accompany Beatrice a while, for thy honour is shown to be the best of the land. We shall see thee at dinner.”

“We thank you, Uncle,” Benedick said, pausing long enough to adjust to hold Beatrice in a one-armed hug that made her smile and do the same for him. Though she also took his hand hanging over her shoulder.

They walked to the garden room with the lawn chairs and sat across from each other. Silence reigned over them as they had almost never had a peaceful discussion; until he decided to break it.

“I pray thee, for which of my bad parts... did thou first fall in love with me?”

She smiled, grateful for the mood change. “For them altogether, which maintain so politic a state of evil that they would not permit any good parts to intermingle with them. But I pray you, for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?”

“Suffer love! A good epithet, I do suffer for I love thee against my will.”

“In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours for I could never love that which my friend hates.”

“Thou and I art too wise to woo peacefully,” he mused, drifting a little into reflection.

Beatrice smiled. “It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.”

He laughed quietly. “An old, and old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this are his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps.”

“And how long is that, think you?”

“Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.” And having drawn a bigger smile from his lady he felt it necessary to change the subject. “So much for praising myself, who, I myself bear witness, is praiseworthy; and now tell me, for thou did part a little whilst I wrote the Prince, how doth your cousin?”

Beatrice's expression soured. “Very ill, as she did not even wish for my company.”

“And you?”

“I would be very ill, too, if not for thy efforts on mine behalf.”

“Serve God, love me, and mend,” he gently urged her.

She smiled again. “My uncle will expect us at dinner. Will you come, Senor?”

He sat up and leaned forward to take her hands. His words were gentle and captivating. “I will live in thy heart... die in thy lap... and be buried in thine eyes.”

Beatrice could not look away. He had never spoken in such a tone to her, and she felt like a spell had been cast over her. Here was the charm and care that he hardly ever showed, and never to this extent. It was the greatest proof of how deep his love went, if he would let her see him acting so unlike his typical manner before the other soldiers.

“And thereupon I will kiss thee,” he added, unable to resist the compulsion any longer.

Instead of arguing his words, she leaned in and met his lips. They let out sighs as they finally met as they had never before. Their arms drew tightly around each other as he lifted to join her on her seat, needing more contact with each other.

Until their movements felt constricted. His uniform and her dress were making what they could do limited. It both dampened the mood and reminded them that they needed to be careful as they were not yet married. Especially given what had happened to Hero.

Benedick blushed as much as Beatrice was, and helped her stand. “We ought to each retire for the moment, and meet again once we are each more comfortable.”

“I agree. Until later, Senor.”

They parted ways, only after they walked the path to Leonato's.

/=/=/=/=/

The next morning Benedick walked in with Leonato. Only the former stopped to stand with the Friar while Leonato went to sit next to his wife. They were now waiting for Don Pedro and Claudio.

At last, the two appeared. Don Pedro walked sternly and properly. Claudio followed, but stumbling and pressing a hand against the walls and pillars. Benedick scowled at the sight of the latter. He had overheard rumors that Claudio had been seen grabbing a bottle of tequila after the memorial for Hero. No question he had decided to drink more of it than was wise, and more than the one bottle rumor spoke of.

And given how much attention it seemed Don Pedro was clearly aiming to draw to himself, it was obvious to Benedick that Claudio had nearly done yet another stupid thing. What said thing was, he did not want to know.

“Good morrow to this fair assembly,” proclaimed Don Pedro.

Leonato stood. “Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio. We hereby attend you. Are you yet determined today to marry with Innogen's niece?”

“I am,” Claudio managed to say, clearly and firmly.

“Innogen, go you and fetch her.”

And she did, walking primly and calmly.

Don Pedro turned to check on Claudio's appearance, making sure that the man's tie was straightened. Benedick turned to the Friar with a look of exasperation.

The holy man's silent sigh showed the helplessness he felt on the matter. “I have observed that when I had attempted to speak to soldiers about excessive drinking it rarely found a willing ear,” he noted on a whisper. “If the Prince can not reach Claudio on the matter then the odds are against anyone else doing so. Except perhaps a wife. The Lady Hero may yet be the making of him.”

Benedick grimaced and answered in the same tone. “I wish that the restoration of Hero's honor had not required her to still be married. It would have served Claudio right for her to be able to choose another.”

Friar Francis grew thoughtful. “It doth occur to me that had there been other male relatives around, perhaps Beatrice's father were he still alive given his rank, then the weight could have been pulled to permit such an action. And were a member of the Duke of Venice's family present, the family where Leonato's mother had come from, the Prince would have needed to handle the accusation with better care. So would have Claudio.”

An understatement at best, and both men knew it. The Venetian navy was second to none, and such an accusation made in the presence of even distant family might have triggered all-out war.

“Alas that family disputes made the Bastard's actions all the more damaging,” Benedick said, nodding as he acknowledged the point.

It was then that Don Pedro and Claudio moved toward the others, and noticed who stood beside the Friar. “Good morrow, Benedick,” greeted the Prince, voice quiet and respectful. He owed him such for showing a wisdom that exceeded his own. “What stand you here for?”

“To be bound in the state of honourable marriage.”

Claudio's eyes widened, as if being sobered by the revelation. “Thine actions were for the love of Beatrice; I did see true.”

“Alas that it was the wrong moment for your eyes to work properly. I did caution thee more than once that too much drinking can harm thy honour worse than the battlefield ever could.”

“Benedick, I pray thee say no more,” pleaded the Prince. “I must answer to my father the King for my failure to discharge my duties to him where my brother was concerned. For thy part I would beg thee to reconsider thy future and continue at my side.”

He shook his head, gaze firm with only a hint of regret. “Troth, Prince, I have given my word that I shall be at Beatrice's side whilst we restore proper rule over her father's lands. I have vowed to her that I shall not leave her side save for if Messina is threatened; and so I must beg thee to accept that I meant what I wrote.” He held his hand out in a handshake offer of friendship.

Any further attempts by Don Pedro to persuade him had to stop, for the wedding march began as Innogen hurried back into place. The Prince accepted the shake and then all three men turned to face the incoming procession.

Four women all clad in black and wearing veils walked in step, each lady's hands clasped loosely in front of her as none seemed to be looking much above a few steps before them. They stopped only a little in front of the men.

“Which is the lady I must seize upon?” asked Claudio once the march went silent.

“You shall know once Benedick has seized upon his own bride,” Leonato retorted.

“I'faith, Uncle, thou must knowst as well as any that none may seize upon Beatrice. She gives herself, and permits none to give her without her consent.”

Leonato's grimace showed he knew the truth. And so he backed off to make way for Beatrice to step forward from the others, who all stepped slightly back.

Once she did Benedick knew it was she; none of the others had the figure he had long admired. He offered his hands silently, and was pleased that she took them after raising her veil over her face to rest behind her head.

Their vows were said, kept to the short and brief form of ceremony; mostly in acknowledgement of Hero's situation. Their smiles grew as Beatrice let Benedick place the wedding ring on her finger, and even more so when the assembly reacted in shock when Beatrice placed a ring on Benedick's finger. Equals in every respect.

At length, they were married. And Benedick smiled. “Never let it be said that I took thee for pity.”

She smirked at him. “I would not have denied you; but by this good day I might have declared that I yield under great persuasion and partly to save your life, for I suspect I would have heard you were in a consumption.”

He rolled his eyes. “Peace! I will stop your mouth.” And this time there was nothing to constrict them or their motions as their arms wrapped around each other, once his hand lowered from cupping her face.

Their lips remained locked together far longer than anyone thought possible, but not even the Prince dared interrupt with a joke about the moment – no matter how much Benedick's earlier protests seemed to scream for it. Although he was compelled to do it when they did at last part in a breathless daze: “How dost thou, Benedick, 'the married man'?”

Once he wrapped an arm around Beatrice, Benedick found enough breath to be able to respond. “I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witcrackers could not flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, and have indeed, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world could say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing...”

He trailed off, looking a moment into the eyes of his wife. “...and this is my conclusion,” he finished, proudly. And took great pride and joy in the look of love and respect that his wife bestowed on him with his words. O if only he had not been such a man as he had been! They could have been long married by now and been blessed with descendants to dote on. Well, they could only go from where they stood, and hope that they would yet see those children that he now longed for.

After a long moment, they noticed Leonato stand. It was their cue to step aside and let Claudio prove whether he would be worthy at all of Hero. They moved to sit beside Innogen.

Once they were there, Leonato spoke. “Now this same is she; and I do give you her.” One stepped forward as he began to speak, and put her hand in his.

“Why, then she's mine,” declared Claudio. “Sweet, let me see your face,” he begged as he moved toward her.

But she held up her hand, just as Leonato said, “No, that you shall not, till you take her hand before this friar and swear to marry her.”

Claudio tried to recover himself, and it took a few seconds more than it should have. “Give me your hand; before this holy friar...” He took it and turned them both to face Friar Francis. “...I am your husband, if you like of me.”

She took her hand out of his to slowly raise the veil over her head, taking much more time to do so and then met her soon to be husband's gaze. When she did he nearly collapsed backward, needing the Friar to hold him upright.

“And when I lived I was your other wife, and when you loved you were my other husband,” declared Hero, in a way announcing the truth without saying it.

“Another Hero?!” cried Claudio.

“Nothing certainer. One Hero died defiled, but I do live; and surely as I live I am a maiden.”

“The former Hero! Hero that is dead?” demanded Don Pedro, not quite believing his eyes and letting it show in his tone.

“She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived,” Leonato calmly rejoined, the words pointed to what they were driven to as to protect his child. Actions that would never have been needed had the Prince carried out his duties as he ought to have done. And fortunately Don Pedro was wise enough to spot the reminder a league away.

“All this amazement can I qualify; when after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: meantime let wonder seem familiar.” With that Friar Francis stepped aside to let the two become reacquainted for a moment, aware as anyone that this would be awkward for at least one of them.

Hero took the first step, drawing Claudio toward her by the motion of her feet. His face pleaded with her to forgive him, that he felt unworthy of her. But she merely clutched him to her, having missed him too much, and then kissed him. An act that seemed to restore his mood with every passing second. Yet even when they broke apart to have the vows spoken did Claudio look like he knew full well he had escaped lightly, and that his guilt would be long-standing.

Benedick and Beatrice looked at each other with heavy expressions, tinged with a hint of relief. She leaned in to whisper, “Shall you truly feel fully comfortable about this? Can we trust him to keep his word?”

He took a deep breath before turning to whisper back. “Not fully, but my knowledge of Claudio's honor gives me great hope for the future. Never again will Claudio trust another over his Hero.”

“What if you are wrong?”

“Well, if he dare hint at such he would have two cousins to contend with who would join to hurt him.”

She found a smile. Even when he motioned with his eyes that he had to handle the next part alone before he stood. The very action caught the attention of the room as he strolled over to face the Count who knew that the previous challenge had to be addressed.

The two men faced off, one nervous and the other determined. Benedick, the latter, spoke first as was expected. “For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised...” He slapped Claudio, only giving a tiny lie to his own words after carrying out one act on Hero's – and Beatrice's – behalf. “...and love my cousin!”

Claudio looked like he wanted very much to challenge Benedick, especially over how his actions were for Beatrice's sake, but he could not find a way to manage it. Although his thoughts were plainly racing across his face. Although not as quickly as the color from the handprint.

Benedick held up a finger in warning. “Come, come, we are friends.” The words were enough to convince Claudio to pat him on the back just as he did the same. And now freed to be his normally cheerful self, and even more cheerful now that he had his secret dream become a reality, Benedick made an announcement as he went to collect Beatrice to her feet. “We'll have a dance ere we leave to the wedding breakfast, that we may lighten out own hearts and our wives' heels.”

Not that Beatrice needed any coaxing. She was squealing instantly and elated as he twirled her around.

It was not long after that the Messenger came to inform them about Don John's capture, and Benedick declared that he would handle the matter. And although the Prince kept to the sidelines, feeling as much the weight of his own actions as the pain of seeing Beatrice with her husband, there was much joy to be shared.

But none was greater than that of the couple no one saw coming. For the formerly dueling pair was plainly deeply in love, and almost completely ignoring everyone else.

It was just as well that none were paying careful attention to them, for if they did it would be noticed that they were each thinking of a different type of dancing. Not that any married pair who enjoyed such faulted them.

**THE END**


End file.
